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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25882639">пусть всё горит</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacedoutboi/pseuds/spacedoutboi'>spacedoutboi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Centricide (Webseries)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AFAB Ancom, Awkward Crush, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, How Do I Tag, I don't know how to write Commie's accent, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Multi, Pre-Relationship, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, ancom uses they/them, commie tries to be a good friend, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:02:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25882639</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacedoutboi/pseuds/spacedoutboi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>ancom does way too many drugs and commie worries. what commie doesn't know is that ancom does them for a lot more reasons than commie thought. </p><p>or just another fic of someone projecting into ancom...and commie, for a change.</p><p>(15/10 update: i'm fixing some grammar issues and all, oops)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ancap/Libertarian (implied), Ancom/Commie, Leftist unity-Relationship, authcom/ancom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>obligatory english is not my native language comment<br/>also i wrote this whole fic in like two days where i was very dysphoric and all so expect me to project shit<br/>title is a reference to the ic3speak song, and no, i don't speak russian (or even read the cryllic script) sadly :(</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun shines through the window, reflecting on a bong that's dropped on the floor, as Ancom sleeps there. An alarm goes off, not for the first time or the second in the morning, but the third one.</p>
<p>Eventually, Ancom decides that it's time to do something more than feeling sorry for themselves. Sliding a finger on the broken phone to stop the noise, Ancom sees their face and they could look worse for what they did yesterday.</p>
<p>Fixing their hair quickly and adjusting the way their hoodie fell on their body, they open the door and walk to the bathroom, hoping no one is at home. They didn't hear anything and usually at this time everyone is screaming at eachother, so that must mean no one else is here? </p>
<p>— Hey!,— Ancap appears behind Ancom, placing a hand on their shoulder,— What a night you had! </p>
<p>It takes them way longer than usual to remember that Ancap sold them the drugs.</p>
<p>— Not to be that guy,— Ancom can feel Ancap's stare even when he was wearing his sunglasses, indoors, which just proves Ancom's theory of Ancap being a movie villain,— But I need the money real soon. </p>
<p>— Do you seriously think I have the money to pay you now? </p>
<p>— No, but I trust you to find me my money. </p>
<p>With a wink and an overly dramatic pose, Ancap disappears into the living room.</p>
<p>Ancom curses under their breath as they shut the door,— Fucking capitalist.</p>
<p>They unzip their hoodie and throw it to the floor. Their torso filled with scars and bruises, and their binder sticking to them with all the sweat from doing really bad lsd who knows where Ancap got. </p>
<p>They think of taking a shower, it has been a while since they last took one. More than usual. And they are sure that once Commie and Nazi see them, some harsh words might be thrown their way for smelling like a thousand different substances combined. </p>
<p>The water starts running and as soon as their fingers brush the skin under their binder, they realize they cannot do this today. They quickly stop the water, throw some water to their face, and sit in the cold black tile.</p>
<p>They inspect their hoodie and while it has smelled better before, at least it isn't stained with blood or something worse. They quickly adjust their binder, (not even wanting to take it off because it's not like they could ever afford top surgery so why should they even take care of their chest anyways?) and zip the hoodie back. </p>
<p>Strutting down the hallway, they realize that now everyone is there and panic gets to them. Why had they all been so quiet this morning? Usually at around 8am, the rightists get up and start fighting, Commie joins them almost immediately, and it all carries into breakfast. In this house, coffee gets made as they fight about anything from what the role of the state should be to literal genocides. </p>
<p>Eyes are on them as soon as they arrive, some more judging than others. Everyone sits at the table, drinking some sort of liquid in mugs with their names written on with a sharpie (By Ancap, of course, who is disgusted at the idea of them accidentally sharing a mug), the silence mortifying Ancom.</p>
<p>— Comrade!,— Commie says enthusiastically, almost too much, his russian accent dragging the r more than usual,— I saved you seat! </p>
<p>— Thanks, commie,— Ancom sits right next to Commie, staring into the back of Ancap's laptop,— Why is everyone so quiet today? Usually you are all fighting about an ethnostate this early- </p>
<p>— Uh, you see, anarkiddy- </p>
<p>— We are over your degeneracy,— Nazi cuts Commie before he can begin,— You smell like filth, you queer-</p>
<p>— Shut up, Nazi,— Commie kicks Nazi under the table,— We thought that we could talk a bit about your habits…? </p>
<p>— What habits? The drugs? </p>
<p>Nazi enthusiastically nods, Commie puts one of his hands behind his hat.</p>
<p>— You cannot be serious. Ancap, are you also in this? </p>
<p>— Of course! </p>
<p>— You're the one who sells me my drugs! </p>
<p>Everyone shuts up for a second. Then, Ancap closes his laptop and stands up.</p>
<p>— Nazi, I believe we have some things to do.</p>
<p>Nazi stands up,— Don't forget I can't stand you, you degenerate female. If Commie wasn't here and took care of you like a fucking lapdog, you would have been dead for a long time. </p>
<p>— Sure. </p>
<p>Ancom stands up and decides to get some tea now that they're left alone with Tankie. They might not always agree, but at least he doesn't try to kill them every time they are together...at least, when Ancom is awake. Ancom can’t really hold Commie’s actions against him in their dreams.</p>
<p>— What was that about?,— Dropping a more than recommended amount of sugar in their tea, Ancom sits back in the table, this time in front of Commie.</p>
<p>— Well, we told you what it was about.</p>
<p>Ancom almost spits their tea. </p>
<p>— Seriously!? The drugs? You're starting to sound like Nazi, Tankie.</p>
<p>— Don't compare me with that capitalist kulak,— Commie replies, some anger in his voice but also...worry? The duality of it makes Ancom feel a special sort of way-</p>
<p>"No. We are ignoring that. He's a statist," Ancom reminds themselves.</p>
<p>— But we...I, worry about you, comrade. </p>
<p>— Why? Because I do drugs? So does half of this world. Fuck, even Ancap does drugs! He sometimes does them with me.</p>
<p>— Yes, but you're not half of this world or Ancap, you're my comrade.</p>
<p>— And now you worry about me? Not when Nazi continually misgenders me multiple times a day? Or when he tries to attack me as soon as I don't have my bat with me or you're not there? </p>
<p>— What? </p>
<p>— You have heard him! Not only he calls me slurs but he also calls me a girl!</p>
<p>— Da, I know that part,— Commies breathes in,— Does Nazi attack you when I'm not around? </p>
<p>— Well, all the time,— Ancom stuffs their mouth with one of the few sweets that was on the table. Probably some sort of russian delicacy Commie baked when Nazi couldn't see him and call him a faggot,— I know close combat too, don't worry. I'm useful even when I don't have a molotov or a bat in my hands, Tankie. </p>
<p>— Anarkiddie- </p>
<p>— Don't call me that just when I told you that I'm not a kid and can take care of myself.</p>
<p>— Ancom. Why didn't you tell me about that? </p>
<p>— As I said, I'm not a child, Commie. I can do things even when you're not with me.</p>
<p>— This isn't graffiting cop's cars or stealing from billionaires, this isn't praxis, this is Nazi attacking you- </p>
<p>— If I had to say, punching a Nazi is quite literally my definition of praxis.</p>
<p>— I...Anarkiddie, listen,— Commie sighs,— Let's give this a break. Want to go out with me? </p>
<p>— Where?</p>
<p>— Worker’s rally. Actually, not one itself, I'm helping to organize it. I was going invite you when the actual rally happens but I think this might be a good opportunity for you.</p>
<p>— Because you say that I read no theory? Tankie, have you ever read Chomsky- </p>
<p>— Let's not fight today. Leave that to the right. Okay?</p>
<p>And even though every cell in Ancom's body was telling them to stay at home. They nodded and felt their heart stop when Tankie smiled honestly and surprised.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Commie is always ready to do things, Ancom realizes, since he's standing at the door as soon as Ancom agrees to go out with him. Ancom, however, isn't, so the anarchist runs to their room to grab some things they can't leave this house without.</p><p>And also, to do their makeup so they don't look so dead. Ancom has an interesting relationship with makeup, it makes them dysphoric most times, but it helps them to conceal the amount of drugs they do and just look like they had a night bad of sleep instead of staying up way too late doing drugs, like they do.</p><p>Once they have grabbed their faithful bat, they walk to the door to go out. Commie takes longs steps while Ancom doesn't and finds it a bit hard to keep with the rhythm of the tall russian.</p><p>At some point, their lungs decide to stop contributing and they start coughing. Commie stops and looks back.</p><p>— Comrade? </p><p>Commie gets closer to the small anarchist and tries to place his hands on their shoulders, but Ancom moves and sits on the side of the street.</p><p>— I'm fine,— They take an inhaler out of the backpack and Commie looks surprised,— I knew this could start being useful someday. </p><p>Commie sits right by their side, as Ancom tries to get the inhaler on their mouth in a way where the air actually gets inside of their throat and helps. In their third try, they manage to do it correctly. </p><p>— Don't boss me now about this,— Ancom says,— It's just from smoking plain cigarettes. You smoke too so don't give me a look.</p><p>— I don't smoke, Anarkiddie.</p><p>— You smoke! I have seen you smoking one of those big fat cigars! </p><p>Commie stays quiet, trying to remember back when that was, then he remembers and a switch gets turned on,— That was decades ago! I haven't smoked since! How do you remember that?</p><p>— I know you underestimate me, but I have a really good memory, Tankie.</p><p>Ancom closes their backpack and gets on their feet,— Plus, it's hard to forget that time you almost killed me. Now, how long until the subway station?</p><p>— Not long,— Commie stands up and starts walking,— And you know I'm sorry for that. </p><p>— Whatever. </p><p>Ancom gets their phone and earphones out, and this time instead of a comfortable silence between them, there's Ancap muttering the lyrics of songs and moving their head, and Commie's mind repeating that interaction over and over. </p><p>It doesn't take long for them to get to the station, and then to the location where everyone is meeting. Ancom takes off their headphones as Commie starts greeting people, and asking those Ancom doesn't quite recognize if they have met them before or heard about them.</p><p>Ancom guesses that it's reasonable for most of them to not know anything about them, but then they are surprised by how many people have heard about them. </p><p>They shake the hands of others and the touch makes them a bit anxious, but it also reassures them that they are a real entity and that sometimes, the feeling of skin against skin can be comforting. </p><p>Commie starts immediately talking to the people there, with strength in his voice and passion for the whole entire thing. And if there's a thing Commie does good, is giving speeches to the people, even if sometimes they end up sounding a bit too rehearsed. </p><p>Ancom supposes that Commie does rehearse them before giving them to people. Surely in front of a mirror. Trying over and over, until it sounds powerful and right enough. </p><p>Ancom thinks they should start doing that as well, they don't talk in public as often as Commie does, but public speaking is a great skill and it might help their cause. Whenever Ancom has to speak in public, they mess up their words and end up cursing, which is okay for those that already share their ideas, but maybe not good enough for others to realize how anarchy is the way to go. But then, the idea of even staring into a mirror and practicing a speech in their house, terrifies them, not only because they hate their body and any sight of it, but also because there's a literal Nazi ready to burst in in the room whenever he wants and attack them.</p><p>Commie might get interrupted by Nazi whenever he practices his speeches as well, but Commie is tall and strong, and knows how to deal with it. Most often than not, surely scaring the Nazi from interrupting whatever Commie is doing. </p><p>Commie's voice brings Ancom back to reality, the circle of people that had been formed before getting dissolved as people walk in different directions to do their work.</p><p>— You're good at this.</p><p>— What?</p><p>— Speaking and all. You even make me believe for a second that we need a strong state. </p><p>— You are exaggerating, but I appreciate the words, comrade.</p><p>— Sure. Just hitting you with some of that Leftist Unity,— Ancom puts their hands on their pockets,— What do we do now?</p><p>— I think that we should help with the banners,— Commie replies,— Is that okay? </p><p>— I haven't painted in a while,— They walk over to a corner filled with paints and fabric,— But okay. </p><p>— You speak like you haven't painted since you were a small child,— Commie takes off his coat,— As if you aren't the one who has made half of the patches and buttons you always have on your hoodie.</p><p>Ancom rolls his sleeves and sits on the floor, after taking a paintbrush and paint</p><p>— They're not that good. And they don't need to be, you know? That's a bit of the whole do-it-yourself thing...And also, not letting people make profit out of it.</p><p>Commie lays the fabric on the floor and sits,— They're still good.</p><p>— So, we are doing the usual thing? Or you want me to paint a realistic portrait of you and Marx making out? </p><p>Commie starts laughing.</p><p>— Not this time, Anarkiddie.</p><p>— What I'm taking out of that is that someday you do want me to paint a realistic portrait of you and Marx? Just not today? </p><p>— If you keep offering that, I might have to agree in...how do the people say it now? Ironically? </p><p>— Yeah? So an ironic portrait of you and Marx kissing? </p><p>— I'd have to be ironic because I don't think of Marx in that way, comrade. </p><p>— Well, keep lying to yourself then.</p><p>Commie continues laughing, just that this time a bit more discreet. Ancom has the sensation that the Commie he met all those years ago would have never laughed at their jokes, instead, at them. </p><p>Hell. The Commie that moved in with them and the other extremists some months ago wouldn't.</p><p>The Commie they knew before was different. He was stricter and harsher. Yes, they were always comrades but before it was only that. They'd work together and then wouldn't speak to each other for months, or even years, until it was needed. Then, Commie would call them and Ancom would shut down the speech of a fascist, say a word or two about it to Commie, silence between them, and the circle started over and over again. </p><p>But now Commie actively seeks Ancom out, even for just simple activities like watching a movie together or watering the plants they both brought into the apartment. Their conversations continue to be mostly about politics and the revolution, but don't limit anymore to just that.</p><p>Being the only two leftists at their apartment manage to bring them closer than anything before could. Because that's what they have to do to survive there.</p><p>And Ancom really likes the Commie they had gotten to meet in the last months. Ancom was familiar with having a crush, or even multiple, since before this they lived with the other anarchists who were quite known for their openness towards to sex and relationships, but this was different. </p><p>Ancom would admit that they were lying if they deny the fact that they have had a crush on Commie for years, because who doesn't? Commie's attractiveness was one of the many things the anarchists all agreed on besides how Queer Anarchist made the best gluten free cupcakes, but this was more than a crush. </p><p>And that scared the fuck out of Ancom.</p><p>Commie leaves his paintbrush on the floor and speaks,— Which color do you think would look good with the letters? </p><p>Ancom looks at the black letters Commie painted and they look really good. </p><p>— Red. I think red would, uh, look really cool? </p><p>— Then, red it is. </p><p>Commie grabs another paintbrush and dips it in the red paint. Ancom decides to help him paint, after spending most of the time there daydreaming about Commie. At least they helped to draw some symbols in the thing. </p><p>It doesn't take them too long to finish it. </p><p>— We...should wait before putting it up,— Commie says,— Oh! Comrade! </p><p>— What?,— Ancom can feel their cheeks heating up as Commie gets closer to their body and it gets worse as Commie puts one of his big hands on Ancom's cheeks.</p><p>— You have paint here, Anarkiddie.</p><p>— Ah! I'll go get clean then-</p><p>— No, no,— Commie grabs a napkin that was there to clean the brushes after painting and wipes the paint off Ancom's face,— Mutual aid! </p><p>Commie looks at the napkin and then at Ancom.</p><p>— Makeup? </p><p>— Uh…to cover scars? </p><p>— Scars? </p><p>— Acne scars,— Ancom replies, almost shaking.</p><p>— Ok. Don't worry about wearing some makeup around me. I'm not...you know who. </p><p>— Can we...not talk about that?,— Ancom stands up. </p><p>— Da, sorry for bringing it up,— Commie says,— Let's see how the others are doing before going back home.</p><p>— Sure.</p><p>And so, they walk back to the people sitting on a table and discussing what to do and what not to do once the rally happens. Ancom tries to make sense of what they're talking about but everyone talks so fast and with such long words that they are starting to question if they sound like that sometimes. But Commie seems content with the fast and passionate talking.</p><p>The people notice that Commie and Ancom are standing there and invite them. However, Commie refuses.</p><p>— You seem to have that covered,— Commie speaks,— Besides I have to get home with Anarkiddie before it gets dark.</p><p>Someone, Ancom can't figure out who, lets an "aw" out and then the realization hits them. </p><p>They think that they're dating Commie. </p><p>That's why they were someone most people have, at least heard of, and the few others were quickly okay with Ancom just hanging out there. And also why no one later even thought about disturbing them as they paint.</p><p>Or it could also be that they are all intimidated by Commie to put any resistance to Ancom's presence there. </p><p>Or maybe both. Who knows.</p><p>Commie doesn't seem to mind that implication, as he waves bye to his comrades and walks out of the secret building with Ancom.</p><p>— Hey, Tankie,— Ancom lets out after taking a breath in the cold afternoon air,— How is it that...mostly everyone there knew about me? They didn't seem to be...interested in any sort of anarchism.</p><p>The sun is starting to set and Commie's figure seems to shine.</p><p>— Well, comrade, they know about you because you're good at what you do,— Commie replies,— And because I talk about you sometimes. That is bound to happen when you live with someone.</p><p>— You tell them about me?,— Ancom stops walking for a second,— Wow. That's a bit…- Forget about it. Do they know you live with the other extremists too?</p><p>— I'm sure I have told them about Nazi once or twice,— Commie stops as well,— I'm not sure about Ancap? We have less in common but...we just don't interact that much. At least, stuff that's worth telling other people.</p><p>— Huh. I see.</p><p>— Why did you ask that?</p><p>— Just curiosity, Tankie. I'm not usually able to get into communist spaces that easily. </p><p>— Why? Is someone in specific not letting you? I can make that stop-</p><p>— Well, I don't really try that as much as I did before, now that I know the other anarchists in town,— Ancom speaks, picking up their rhythm, — But the usual. "How can you be a man if you look like that?", ignoring that I'm not a man or at least that they think a man is, and then continue to misgender me and other fun activities.</p><p>— I'm sorry you had those experiences.</p><p>— You don't have to be sorry about what others have done to me, Tankie. </p><p>— Still. Sorry, Comrade.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>again i project on ancom bc im also a trans anarchist hm</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>as someone who has been in both the positions of trying to save someone/wanting to be saved (thinking that those things would make things better for them/me) this was fun to write uwu</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They continue their journey in silence, but not as a tense silence like the one before, while not exactly comforting either, just...silence. Like the silence they used to share all those years ago.</p><p>And for once, the flat is also silent.</p><p>That's probably a first for all those months they have spent in the place.</p><p>"Had to attend some meetings. And one of my partners literally begged me to bring Nazi along, after a lot of convincing, he came as well. Don't expect us to return soon. PSA: I'm staying over at Libertarian's house",— Ancom reads the post-it note on the kitchen table as Commie turns on the coffee machine.</p><p>— They're gone for tonight? </p><p>— And Ancap is staying over at Libertarian's place, — Ancom says,— I'm pretty sure they are hooking up. As weird as that sounds. </p><p>— Do you think so?</p><p>— Yeah. Ancap only talks about two things; Money and that Libertarian guy. He also underlined the word over in this note. </p><p>— What about Nazi then?</p><p>— What about that bastard?</p><p>— Where is he staying over?</p><p>— Oh, Tankie, don't talk about him as if you care about him,— Ancom says, — We both hate the guts out of that guy. </p><p>— I was asking to know if he had to sleep in the cold, wet ground of the streets like you have before,— Commie replies,— Or the hard concrete of a bunker like I have had to do.</p><p>— I wish he was here so I could break his bones, so the experience is even worse,— Ancom giggles,— Anyways. Three tablespoons of sugar and-</p><p>— Almost no milk. I know,— Commie says, after pouring a little amount of milk, while giving Ancom their cup.</p><p>— Thanks, Tankie.</p><p>— You're welcome.</p><p>They both walk over to a couch which has seen better days, but was the only thing Ancom actually managed to bring into the flat, so they're proud about that. Before sitting, Commie stops to speak.</p><p>— We should go out on the balcony,— Commie begins,— No one is here. Fresh air. And the sunset as well.</p><p>— You know, why not? </p><p>And so, they both sit on the balcony, in some chairs that probably got here because of Nazi's only habit besides playing Call of Duty all day and going on racist online forums, staring out the balcony trying to find "degenerates" as he puts it, but Ancom knows he's just referring at everyone who would ever hang out with them and/or Commie.</p><p>They are plastic cheap chairs, probably bought from Ancom, knowing how he tries to capitalize out of every hobby they have, and not the most comfortable. But the coffee is warm and the sunset is pretty.</p><p>— Commie? </p><p>— Da? </p><p>— How is it you...never get that hat off you, even when it's hot outside?</p><p>— It's a part of me,— Commie replies,— Can't really take it out. Except for showers, of course. </p><p>Then they stay silent. Just watching the sunset. But Commie speaks and Ancom can feel their heart falling out of their body, their anxiety running at a hundred times more than usual.</p><p>— What?</p><p>— I said,— Commie says,— Drugs. I think we should talk about your drug...issue? </p><p>— Fuck off.</p><p>— Sorry.</p><p>— You...keep telling me that you're sorry for things you're not sorry for,— Ancom replies, a tint of anger in their voice,— Don't do that. I hate it. Almost as much as I hate the state.</p><p>— I’m so- Fuck.</p><p>Ancom can't help but let a tiny laugh. Commie recomposes himself.</p><p>— That's good. You should laugh more.</p><p>— I won't if a statist like you tells me.</p><p>— I hope that's a joke,— Leaving his cup on a tiny box that was outside as well, Commie tries to figure out how to ask Ancom about it without coming off as intrusive but decides to just try it,— I don't want to talk about the drugs really. But why you do them. I respect your choice to do drugs but-</p><p>— But what? </p><p>— I doubt you're doing them only because you want to. I might...not be obvious at hinting at it but I do want to help you, Anarkiddie. You're important to me. And I think there's something you're not telling me. Or Ancap. Or whoever you like to hang out with these days. I...we just want you to be doing good, I'm sure.</p><p>"More than one thing, actually", Ancom thinks to themselves before trying to burn their tongue with hot coffee so they can evade Commie's question. It doesn't work as the coffee is getting colder and colder almost by the second.</p><p>— That's a whole thing to unpack,— Ancom replies,— Which I'm not sure you want even to hear about.</p><p>— We're comrades, da?,— Ancom nods confused,— Then I want to hear what you want to say. If there's something you want to tell me. I think I could help you- </p><p>— This is going to be my only warning, Tankie, don't think of yourself as a saviour or something,— Ancom says, after sighing,— If I'm telling you these things is because I want to tell you. Not so you can save me from them. Because you can't help me from myself, gotcha? </p><p>— Of course,— Commie answers.</p><p>— Basically. A lot of shit. Of course living here is one. I can't stand Nazi and he's getting better at fighting so I can't hurt him as much as I did before. Ancap is a bastard but at least he has good drugs. And is good at playing cards. You…</p><p>— Me?</p><p>— I trust you, Tankie. You're...probably the only one here I can properly stand. We still have our issues though. I think sometimes you underestimate me and treat me like a child. But then, if Nazi even looks at me while you're at the room, you defend me as if I can't do it. You know I can do that shit by myself.</p><p>"It also doesn't help the fact that you're hot and I can't get that out of my mind. Even if I'm sure that you're just a friend or at most, a crush."</p><p>— And also, my dysphoria is getting very bad,— Ancom continues,— I don't expect you to get it since you're-</p><p>— Cis. I know-</p><p>— Yeah. That. But it's getting worse each day. I thought I was over with that and I was finally confident to do the shit I wanted to do with myself and my identity. But no. I despise my body every second and I hate myself for not being able to get on testosterone. Maybe I'm thinking too highly of hrt but fuck, the concept of it sounds really good right now. It also doesn't help me that you're the only one here who actually respects me and my pronouns, since Nazi clearly just wants to kill me and Ancap just cares when it's pride month and he can make money out of associating with me.</p><p>— Wait,— Commie stands up out of nowhere and goes back inside.</p><p>"Great, you scared him with your queer shit and now he's gone. Can't wait for the Nazi to get here and beat the shit out of you. Oh?"</p><p>Commie places a big piece of fabric on Ancom's hands. </p><p>— Big shirt,— Commie starts to explain,— Maybe it can help you with your dysphoria? Even if it's just something like making you take off your binder after a long day and wearing this.</p><p>"Which I probably should do. Jesus, I mean, Chomsky or someone else- This smells like him."</p><p>— I don't use it that much anymore now that I sleep shirtless.</p><p>— You what-</p><p>— Sleep shirtless? Because it's hot now.</p><p>Let's ignore that fact before it turns into an image in my head and fuck here we go-</p><p>— Thanks?,— Ancom replies awkwardly after a while.</p><p>— You're welcome,— Commie smiles,— You...need to take care of yourself, comrade. If you ever want to, I can help you to do some exercise. It might help you feel better.</p><p>— Hm.</p><p>— And might help you get stronger. To kick cops and all. </p><p>— Alright, but don’t let Nazi know,— With a smirk on their face, Ancom looks at Commie.</p><p>— Of course. He won’t know what’s coming for him!</p><p>— Yeah,— Ancom feels Commie´s lingering stare and for once, it doesn’t make them any more nervous but instead, it helps them to relax. Commie is, after all, here for them. They’re comrades. </p><p>And when Commie finally decides to close the distance between their bodies with a loving kiss, Ancom finally felt at ease. </p><p>Ancom thinks, as they put their head on Commie’s shoulder, "Being comrades is good."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank u all for reading this mess of a fic &lt;3 also not to be that person but please follow me on instagram (@spacedoutboi) since im back trying to do the whole art thing and im uploading centricide fanart haha</p>
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